


Grab the Gladio by the Biceps: Contentious Countess Edition

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gladio and Prompto both have excellent taste, M/M, There will be romance novel excerpts and they will be atrocious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9122959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Gladio introduces Prompto to the magnificent world of trashy 10c romance novels. Neither of them are prepared for this.





	1. Hot for a Highlander

**Author's Note:**

> The Prompto/Gladio trashy novel spin-off, as promised, in all its glory.

“Hey. Gladio. What are you reading?” 

Gladio looked up from his book for the sixth time in half an hour, and wondered what would happen if he stuffed the crown prince’s best friend into the trunk of the car. Silence, probably. The chance to finish reading one page without getting a gloved hand shoved in his face. A minute without witnessing Ignis’ patience stretch thinner and thinner as Prompto continued to move about the passenger’s seat like a fish on a dock. 

“Megnussian’s Theorem on the Movement of the Stars,” Gladio said, looking into Prompto’s eyes. Prompto pulled a face.

“Sounds painful. Don’t you read anything _good?_ ”

Gladio pulled his book away as Prompto swiped at it. “This is good.“

“Dude.” Prompto heaved himself over the edge of the seat, and Ignis reached over to yank him down by the belt. “That’s so not what I’m talking about. Like, epic battles. Good vs. Evil. Man vs. Behemoth. The endless struggle for justiiiice.” He clenched his fists and shook them in the air. At Gladio’s side, Noct rolled his eyes.

Gladio fixed Prompto with a steady look. “Alright, Prompto. Next time we pull over, you can go through my books. I’m sure there’ll be one that fits even your high standards.”

\---

To Gladio’s surprise, Prompto took him up on his offer. While Ignis and Noct hauled out the camping equipment, Gladio sat back against the bumper of the regalia and watched the blonde dig through his books like a middle-aged aunt at a clearance bin.

“Dude, three books on math? Math?” Prompto let out a little groan and slumped dramatically, both his hands on the top of the trunk lid. Gladio narrowed his eyes. Was he doing this on purpose? He looked away from the blonde’s arching back and forced his expression to stay resolute and uninterested. 

After a while, Prompto made a strange noise in the back of his throat. He straightened, lifting out a well-loved paperback with embossed lettering on the cover. “Gladio, what’s this?”

Gladio grinned. “Only the best in high literature, Prom.”

The gunner looked dubiously at the book in his hands, lips moving as he read the cover. “The Contentious Countess: Hot for a Highlander? Hot? For a Highlander?” The look he gave Gladio was one of sheer, beautiful confusion. He wished he could take a picture. 

“Read the back,” Gladio said. Really, someone should give him a medal. He couldn’t believe he was still in control of his own expressions in the face of Prompto’s crumbling composure. 

“From the author of the Duplicitous Duchess,” Prompto said, dubiously. “The beloved Countess Andromeda is captured by the horrible Lord HelpdeBolt on the eve of her nineteenth birthday, only to be. Be swept into the arms of. Gladio. What is this.”

“She’s not swept into the arms of Gladio, she’s swept into the arms of the immortal Highlander Reginald. It says it right there.” Gladio nodded to the book, still clenched in Prompto’s hands. “You’ll like it. At least ten murders in that book alone, daring rescues, hot pirates, the works.”

“You read this?”

“You don’t?” Gladio barely contained a smile. Prompto’s face was reaching a new height of bewilderment. “Come on, Prom. Give it to the end of the first chapter. If you don’t like it, I’ll never try to make you read another philosophy book again.”

He was surprised to see a faint blush rising up Prompto’s neck. 

“You’re on.”


	2. Out for the count(ess)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto learns the true joy of reading.

In the tent on the banks of the Astor Slough, Prompto rolled to his stomach and reached for his traveling pack. Since he was trapped between the sleeping forms of Noct and Ignis, this proved to be a delicate operation—Ignis was a restless sleeper, and Noct could be vindictive when he was interrupted. Finally, he found what he was looking for: The book. He pulled it towards him and carefully turned on his portable flashlight.

White light bloomed throughout the small tent, illuminating every crevice. 

“Shit!” Prompto turned it off, but the damage was done.

“Goddammit, Prom!” That was Noct, kicking him in the shins.

“Did something happen?” Ignis asked.

“Something damn well better have,” came a low, sleep-heavy rumble from the other end of the tent.

“Sorry,” Prompto said. “I was just leaving.” He gingerly got to his feet and crouched at the tent door.

“Don’t wander,” Ignis said.

Noct growled. “No, do. Do wander. Get eaten by wolves. Never wake me up again.”

Prompto smiled at Noct as he stepped out of the tent. “You don’t mean that,” he said. “You’d miss me.”

He zipped the door back up and made his way to the banked fire, which glowed a warm orange under a pile of ash and half-burned logs. Prompto kicked a log with his foot, making the embers flare a little, and turned on his light again.

Right. Time to see what Gladio considered to be High Literature. He turned the front page of the Contentious Countess, and settled down on one of the camp chairs to read.

 

_The Countess Andromeda gazed out at the wild, rocky, yet also devastatingly empty, plains beyond her tower bedroom. How like her own heart they were! How empty, how bare of life and beauty! How buffeted by the harsh winds of endless strife and suffering! If only, she thought, clutching her hands to her ample bosom, she could fly above these plains with the wings of her heart and free herself of this wretched castle! She sighed, lustily, and her pure white gown billowed in the breeze in a cloud of lace and silk, stretching out a good five feet past the balcony. The dark, tight curls of her hair blew about her worried, yet also perfect, face._

 

Prompto squinted. Someone had underlined the words “wings of her heart” three times and written, in small, careful lettering, “So true!”

He thought about this for a long moment, and then continued.

 

_“Ho, there!” cried a deep, dark, handsome, and unmistakably masculine voice from below. She gasped and glanced down, only to see a man standing just outside the moat beyond the castle wall, an enormous sword in his right hand. The sword was indeed very large, and the man looked like he knew how to use it._

 

Prompto had to put the book down for a minute.

 

_The man’s muscles gleamed like a school of silvery fish, except his skin was brown, of course, not silver, and his pectorals danced like leaves on the wind as he took deep, manly breaths, and his thighs were so thick that Andromeda was certain, ever so certain, that he could crack a melon with those legs alone._

_She did have a weakness for thighs._

 

“Oh my gods,” Prompto said.

 

_But his eyes burned like the coals of Ifrit’s abs, dark and lusty and smoldering with manhood._

_“My gentle lady,” he called out. “Where is the master of this castle? I wish to have words with him!”_

_“Oh, no!” she cried, pressing herself against the balcony railing. “You mustn’t! For the master of the castle is a foul, evil brigand masquerading as a noble, who will only throw your life into peril as surely as he has done to mine own!”_

_“Then you will be pleased, my lady,” the man said, grinning manfully, “that I have come to kill him.”_

 

Five hours later, a rustling at the tent flap startled Prompto to attention. He closed the book and shoved it next to his side, then twisted around to see Ignis bowing out of the tent. Ignis blinked at him once, twice.

“Prompto,” he said. “Were you out here all night?”

“…..no?” Prompto said. He felt dazed, and his eyes ached, but otherwise he wasn’t very tired. “Breakfast?”

Ignis sighed and started to unpack the camp stove. “One day,” he said, “I will fall terribly ill, and the three of you will starve to death.”

“That’s cheerful.” That was Gladio, climbing out of the tent. He took one look at Prompto and grinned. “Sleepless night, Prom?”

“Shut up, Gladio.”

Gladio had the nerve to laugh. He slipped on his boots, and when he leaned over to tie them properly, the lines of his tattoo shifted with the muscles of his shoulders and back. When he stood up again, he was looking at Prompto, expectant.

Prompto’s mouth felt very dry.

“You coming?” Gladio asked.

“Nnh?” 

Gladio sighed. “Running. With me. Like we do every morning.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.” Prompto scrambled to tuck the book back into his pack and retrieve his boots.

The early morning running tradition had started up in Insomnia, while Prompto was being introduced to the Crownsguard in preparation for the trip. The moment Gladio heard that Prompto liked “to run, I guess,” he more or less begged him to join him for a jog in the morning. Prompto suspected that this sudden, fervent enthusiasm came more from the fact that Noct never wanted to go for a run, and less to do with the pleasure of Prompto’s company. He was starved for a jogging buddy, that was all. He couldn’t see any other reason someone like Gladio would _want_ see someone like _him_ every morning. Not when he was the shield to the king. Not when he could have anything. 

All the same, it was nice. 

They picked out a path near the campsite and set off, Gladio setting the pace. Prompto had been amused to find that Gladio had to struggle to keep up with Prompto’s usual jogging strides, and even with his training and stamina, always got winded first. By the time they’d turned a corner and headed up the slope, Prompto could see sweat rolling down the back of Gladio’s neck.

“Prom, I’m gonna lap you at this rate.” Prompto hurried to close the distance, and they slowed to a light trot. “So. Which one do you like?”

“What?”

“Andromeda or Reginald. Which one do you like?”

He had to think about this. Obviously, Reginald, the well-muscled Highlander with a dark past, was appealing in some… familiar way… but Andromeda was definitely more sympathetic. Maybe he liked them both. It made sense. They were exactly the type of people he would go for: Massively out of his league.

“I don’t trust Reginald,” Prompto said at last. “He’s hiding something.” Gladio grunted. “Which one do you like, then?”

“I’m a fan of Lymont, but you don’t meet him until the second book.”

Prompto called for a stop. The slope was making his knees shake, which was not a good sign. Maybe he should have skipped on the run this morning—he’d never gone on one without sleep before. “Do you… have the second book?”

“Of course.” Gladio slapped Prompto heavily on the back, and Prompto’s legs gave way. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m fine,” Prompto said, from his new home in the dirt. “Just leave me here to die.”

“Sure thing,” said Gladio. He sat on the path next to Prompto and patted his ass companionably. “Gives me a minute to catch my breath.”

“A true friend,” Prompto mumbled. Gladio looked down at him, lying in the dirt, face beet red and ragged with lack of sleep, and winked.

“The best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope that I have seared the image of dancing pecs into all of your brains. You are welcome.


	3. Take the plunge, bustily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Gladio have a talk about UST. Noct despairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my wonderful, stunning, magnificent wife for introducing the word "bustily" into my vocabulary.

Prompto lay with his head only a few feet away from the fire, legs propped up on the seat of a camping chair. He was holding the worn, coffee-stained book to the uneven light, squinting at the pages as though trying to work out a puzzle.

 

_“No!” cried Andromeda, turning aside as the bosomy pirate wrapped an arm around her wasp-thin waist. The giant roses on Andromeda’s voluminous silk ballgown trembled in outrage. “I would rather be held captive by Lord HelpdeBolt than be seen in the arms of a rogue!”_

_“Ah, but I am not a pirate by choice,” the woman said, bustily. “If I am a rogue, I am a rogue with hidden depths. Like the sea. Which is very deep. Like myself. I swear upon the honor of my noble father, Lord Hern of Ablelake, that you will not come to harm in my care.”_

_Lord Hern! The dread traitor to the crown, executed not ten years ago? How could such a man have honor? But the way that the pirate woman said his name, with her chin lifted high, the swell of her righteous bosom gilded by the evening sun! Behind them, Lord HelpdeBolt’s guards were galloping up the stairs. Below them lay the sea, and beyond, the high-masted vessel of the pirate ship Milady._

_“Come, Countess!” cried the pirate. “We court death either way!”  
Andromeda clung to the other woman helplessly, and the pirate kicked off from the wall of the fortress, hurling them into the glittering waves._

 

“Any good?”

Prompto jumped, nearly upending the camping chair. Noct stood over him, hands on his hips, with a smug, obnoxious look that meant he’d been standing there for a while. Prompto hurriedly closed the book and tried to hide the cover with both hands.

“Yes,” he said. “No. I was _reading,_ Noct.”

“Voluntarily?” Prompto flipped him a rude gesture, and Noct laughed. “Alright, be evasive.” 

The prince stalked over to where Ignis was fighting a losing battle with the tea kettle. Behind him sat Gladio, sitting with his forearms on his thighs, hands dangling between his knees. He’d been staring at Prompto this whole time, and he raised his eyebrows now and mouthed the words, _Where are you?_

_Pirates,_ Prompto mouthed back.

Gladio raised his hand and gave him a thumbs up. The tattoos on his arm seemed to be a deeper blue against his skin, which was cast in a warm glow by the fire—

_Gilded by the evening sun,_ thought Prompto, suddenly. He immediately covered his face with both hands and looked away, biting back a groan. That was bad. That was incredibly, painfully bad.

“Doin’ ok, there, Prom?” 

“This book is terrible,” Prompto said, from under his hands.

“You can stop reading whenever,” said Gladio. “Want me to tell you why the Countess’ diamond necklace made Reginald run off to Elfheim?”

He ducked, laughing, as Prompto threw the offending book at his head. 

\---

“Okay, I don’t get it.”

Prompto walked backwards at the front of the group as they trudged through yet another field, on their way to retrieve a missing hunter’s dog tag. Noct and Ignis, in the middle of a heated debate about _someone_ shoving all of his onions into _someone else’s_ burger while their back was turned, didn’t even look up. Gladio spun his finger in the air, indicating that Prompto turn around before he hurt himself. 

“What don’t you get, Prom?”

“What’s Andromeda’s deal?”

Noct groaned. “Gods, Ignis, they’re doing it again.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Prompto ignored this and slowed down to match Gladio’s stride, still walking backwards. “Look, Andromeda’s great. Reginald likes her.”

“Sure.”

“So what’s her deal? If this guy’s into her, why doesn’t she just go for it? All they do is stare at each other.”

“Gee,” said Noct. “Wonder what that’s like.” Ignis reached out and smacked the prince on the back of the head, earning a glare.

Gladio glanced back at Noct before turning back to Prompto, face impassive. “Maybe she isn’t ready.”

“Dude.”

“You can’t rush it, Prompto.” His voice was sharp, which startled Prompto to a halt. He’d been his usual self before Noct had interrupted, but now it was like his face had shut down and he’d gone straight into Battle Mode.

Noct slowed, reached out for Ignis’ arm, and dragged his advisor to a stop. “You two can finish this on your own,” he said. “I can’t watch this.”

“Watch what?” Prompto asked. Noct flung his head back in a groan of despair. Ignis, his shirt half slipping down one shoulder in Noct’s enthusiastic grip, sighed and took off his glasses. 

Gladio looked strangely tense. He rocked back on his heels a moment, pointedly not looking at Prompto, and ran a hand through his hair. It was starting to grow out a little, in awkward layers that didn’t quite settle smoothly, and his fingers caught in a tangle at the base of his skull. Prompto wondered why he’d never noticed how big his hands were before. 

“We’re almost there, anyways,” Gladio said. “Come on, Noct, let’s hustle.”

Prompto held back a bit as Gladio took the lead, letting Noct and Ignis pass him. Ignis pulled out of the prince’s grip to place a comforting hand on Prompto’s shoulder, which only confused him more. What was Noct talking about? Why had Gladio gone distant? 

In his shoes, Andromeda would have put her foot down and demanded an answer. Reginald would have not let it bother him at all. But Prompto was definitely no Andromeda. He wasn’t a Reginald, either. He didn’t fit with any of the heroic, awe-inspiring characters that Gladio seemed to like so much, so maybe it made sense that he’d gotten something wrong here. 

He sighed. Oh, well. Maybe the second book would be different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much smut yet, but it will get here. Oh, it'll get here.


	4. Lymont

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto discovers new things about himself and Gladio.

Everything was going wrong.

It wasn’t that Gladio was being _cold_ to Prompto, but he wasn’t being very warm, either. When they went jogging, he commented on the weather. When they fought MT’s, monsters, and daemons, he shouted orders. Whenever Prompto tried to engage him in any kind of conversation alone, he put on a polite, unmoving expression and made excuses to leave as soon as possible. 

Of course, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Prompto would start to take an interest in someone, try to get a little closer, almost create a real, human interaction, and then mess it up so terribly that he couldn’t show his face to them again. He just hadn’t expected this to happen with Gladio. 

He still wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong in the first place.

Once, he caught Gladio at the campfire, talking quietly to Ignis.

“—way he talks about Cindy,” he was saying, in a low voice. Prompto could only make out a few words. “—happened before—not gonna do that again—“

“Regardless, you’re being unkind,” Ignis said, in a louder voice. “And you might be mistaken. He—” Ignis saw Prompto’s approach and coughed, lightly. Gladio fell into silence.

“Gonna head in,” he said, and got up. Prompto watched him head to the tent, feeling lost, and Ignis sighed.

Gladio mutely handed Prompto the second book in the Contentious Countess series when he asked for it, but Prompto didn’t feel much like reading. The book lay in his pack untouched for almost a week, and it wasn’t until they’d taken a few days to rest in Lestallum when he pulled the book out from under his spare clothes.

The book was almost worse. 

The first chapter involved the Countess and Reginald having a terrible fight over the secret of the Countess’ locked budoir, and the book was split into two separate plotlines as the lovers each went on their own journeys to find themselves. While it was interesting to get a look into Reginald’s mind, it was still depressing. Why would the writer spend an entire book building up a romance just to break it apart? What was the point?

Prompto waited until he and Noct were alone in the Leville hotel room before he started the book. It felt weird, reading it around Gladio now. Both Gladio and Ignis were out at the Lestallum market for the night, so Prompto figured he could at least get through part of Reginald’s story before he had to quit.

 

_Reginald sat broodily in the back room of the Dine And Brine, the mermaid-run bar south of Oes where only the truly desperate would dare show their faces. His contact was late, and Reginald idly flexed his many rippling muscles in a state of acute distress, the core of his heart twisted with the worry that he would take one look at this contact, this old friend, and forget the smiling face of his Countess forever._

_The door opened, creakily._

_“Lymont,” breathed Reginald._

 

Prompto stopped. Lymont? Why was that name so familiar?

 

_Lymont walked into the room like a hurricane wrapped in a tornado wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a slender man with tight buttocks. He was a skinny man of average height, with sandy blonde hair that brushed over his piercing, bright eyes. His smile was the wing of a butterfly in the heart of a star in the depths of Reginald’s loins, and he gazed at the highlander with the same fondness with which he’d beheld him not long before Reginald had been captivated by his countess._

_Oh, to take him in his arms again! To press their bodies together in the lurid dance of wistful love! Years had passed, yet Lymont still held that air of mystery under his cheerful exterior, the hint of a dark past that he did not share even with his dearest friend._

_“I have come with news of your Countess,” he said, with a cocksure grin that sent desire leaping in Reginald’s quivering manfulness._

_“The Countess can wait,” said Reginald, and he gripped the smaller man in his large, giant, honestly quite enormous hands and kissed him tenderly._

 

“Wait.” 

Prompto read the passage over again. Now he remembered: Gladio had told him that Lymont was his favorite character, back when they’d talked about which one they preferred. But no. This had to be a fluke. It was all wrong. Prompto flopped onto his back and flipped ahead through the book, searching for another glimpse of Lymont’s name. There!

 

_Lymont withdrew his blade from the wicked heart of Count Ferret, and kicked his dying body back onto the floor. He turned to Reginald, tears shining in his eyes, and his fine, wiry frame heaved with the exertion of this dangerous duel._

_“You could have died, old friend,” Reginald said. “Why? Why would you go after Count Ferret alone, knowing that he worked for your father?”_

_Lymont dropped his bloody sword to the ground. “I wanted to prove to you, my dear Reginald, that I am worthy of companionship. I know that I am not as strong as you, or as brave as the Countess. I do not have the way with words that could help an orphaned bastard like myself rise in the world to meet you. I do not have any of the qualities that would convince you to be bound to me. But I can do this, at least.”_

_“Lymont,” Reginald growled, pressing the smaller man into a furious kiss. “You do not need to prove yourself. You are everything you need to be. You are my heart.”_

_“Oh, Reginald,” said Lymont, overcome with manly affection. “Take me, as you took me before, here in this room where you have stolen my breath and soul.”_

 

Prompto lay on the bed in silence.

“Noct,” he said, after a long moment had passed. The prince, lying facedown on the bed, grunted noncommittally. “How would you describe me?”

Noct slowly turned his head. “Dunno. Normal?”

“Gladio’s dated people before, right?” Noct groaned softly, and pushed his face back into the blankets. “No, really. Noct. He has, right?” The groan got louder. “What kind of… what’s his type?”

“No,” Noct said, rolling onto his back. “We aren’t doing this, Prompto.”

“Don’t be a shit, dude.”

Noct sighed. “I don’t know, Prom. I mean, he likes. People. I didn’t really pay attention.” He thought about it a moment. “I remember he used to date different types before, but lately I think he’s just gone for blondes.”

“Lately? How lately?”

“Fuck’s sake, Prompto, how am I supposed to know? I don’t track my shield’s love life.”

Prompto felt like someone had flicked a switch in his brain. Everything felt more present, more real, the way it did when he was out on the field and caught up in the rush of fighting and survival. He rolled off the bed and picked himself off the floor.

“I’m going out,” he said. 

“Good luck,” mumbled Noct, rolling back onto his stomach.

 

Prompto made a beeline for the Lestallum market. His hands were shaking. He was pretty sure he shouldn’t be feeling his heartbeat in his throat right now, and yeah, he was definitely blushing in angry red patches all over his shoulders, but this was it. 

He turned the corner of the market and scanned the crowd. Gladio and Ignis would be together, and for all that Gladio was easy to spot, Ignis was a little taller than the rest of the crowd. There. They were by the spice vendor, Ignis leaning down to examine the wares more closely, Gladio looking vague and bored. 

Prompto strode towards them.

Gladio was the first to spot him. “Oh,” he said, his face shifting into that awkward, expressionless mask again. “Prompto. Something up?”

Prompto stopped less than a foot in front of Gladio, which was a mistake. It was hard to be very assertive when you had to crane your neck to look up at someone. But goddammit, Prompto was going to try.

“I got to Lymont,” he said. Gladio’s mask slipped, just for a second, and Prompto couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. He felt high with elation and a little bit of fear, but he knew that what he’d suspected, what he’d guessed in the hotel room, was _right._ He took a step forward, and Gladio shifted back.

“You have a type.”

Gladio glanced to Ignis, who was half bent over the spice displays, mouth open in shock. “Prom, I don’t know what that has to do with—“

“You have a _type,_ ” Prompto said again, taking another step. He was grinning openly, and people were staring, and Gladio was backing away from him but he didn’t care, _he didn’t care._

“You okay, Prompto?” Gladio said, weakly. Prompto laughed.

“It’s _me,_ ” He said. He grabbed the sleeves of Gladio’s jacket and pulled the taller man down to face him. “You have a type, and _your type is me._ ”

And then, still riding off this sudden, boundless confidence, Prompto tugged Gladio down just an inch lower and kissed him full on the mouth.

He hadn’t planned for what he’d do after, and he certainly hadn’t considered that Gladio’s reaction would be so immediate. Gladio returned the kiss, deepening it, pulling at Prompto’s lower lip with his teeth before sliding his tongue in his mouth. Calloused hands clutched his hips and Prompto was being dragged up Gladio’s body, fabric catching as he was heaved into a better grip. His shoulders were just above Gladio’s now, and he kissed the edge of his jaw and pulled at his thick, dark hair. Gladio breathed heavily into his neck, and Prompto hooked his legs around his waist.

“Fuck,” Gladio said. “Okay. We should probably. Calm down.”

Prompto couldn’t calm down. He twisted around in Gladio’s arms, searching for Ignis, and spotted him still at the spice vendor. Noct’s crown-appointed advisor looked visibly shaken. 

“Ignis!” Prompto shouted. 

“Yes,” Ignis said. “Hello, Prompto.”

Prompto laughed. Then Gladio’s hand was at his face, and he was kissing him again, smiling into it and flushed with triumph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I loved about those weird, problematic 80's-era romance novels is that they could (at times) be very affirmative in regards to acknowledging that hey, you can have desires and be desirable and that's not a bad thing. 
> 
> Also, no one in this fictional romance novel series is %100 straight. NO ONE.
> 
> More shenanigans to come!


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Gladio get to be romantics, Ignis and Noctis get no sleep, and the Countess and Reginald's journeys come to an end. Sort of.

Prompto had always considered sex to be fairly straightforward, in his—alright, pretty limited—experience. He never really had time to think much beyond what felt good at the moment, and was more occupied with the end goal than with any messing around in between. With Gladio, it was more like a wave, a frequency, with spaces of slow, silent pleasure that crept up around the edges. It turned out that during those quiet moments, Gladio could be a bit of a talker.

The release of pleasure changed him in some way, made it easier for him to let out the idle chatter he held back when he had to be on the job as Noctis’ shield. He talked about the movement of the stars, the history of the Meteor, the way he still couldn’t sleep properly without the sound of a city in the background. He talked about what he wanted to do when they got back to Insomnia, and about a flower that only bloomed in the mornings on a certain hilltop near the cape. But between all that, he talked about Prompto. 

Prompto was pretty sure he’d never been complimented so thoroughly in his entire life. By the time Gladio waxed philosophic about the shape of his ass and the feel of his hips under his hands, Prompto had pressed his face to the pillow to hide acute, disbelieving embarrassment. Gladio backed off in surprise at that, and coaxed him out with a promise to take it a little easier with the sweet talk. But Prompto could tell by the way his hands would sometimes slow to a stop, or the half-lidded look in his eyes as he pulled back from pressing his mouth to his skin, that Gladio desperately wanted to continue. 

“Hold on,” he had said, when they were pressed together in the sheets, Prompto half lying over him as they moved with each other under his guiding hands. “Wait.” 

Prompto paused, wondering what was wrong, and was startled when Gladio reached out to press a warm hand to his jaw. 

“You were hiding your face,” Gladio said. He brushed a thumb over Prompto’s cheek, just below his eye. Prompto could tell there was more on his mind, but all he said was, “Don’t look away.” Prompto nodded, and kissed his fingers as they brushed his lips, and watched his face as he came. 

It was very, very late in the evening before either of them thought of their companions sleeping in the other room.

\---

“This is terrible,” Noctis said. He was hunched on a patio lounge chair on the hotel balcony, wrapped in bedsheets and looking like death warmed over. He clutched a mug of tea in white-knuckled fingers. Behind him, Ignis sat with his own mug, gazing out at the bright haze of Lestallum’s watchlights.

“They’re certainly enthusiastic,” Ignis admitted. 

“Understatement of the century, Specs.” Noct sipped his tea resentfully, like it had personally insulted him. “I counted five times. Five. Times. I mean, sure, they tried to be quiet, but... When I’m older, I’ll be on the throne, listening to some council member talk about foreign policy, and you know what I’ll be hearing in the back of my head?”

“I have an idea—“

“I’ll be hearing Prompto and Gladio having sex. In my head. For the rest of my life.”

Ignis rubbed his shoulder in sympathy. “I daresay you’ll carry on, your highness.”

\---

_“Goodness,” said Countess Andromeda, lying on her bed in a simple dressing gown of silk, satin, lace, and wool with gold embroidery on the edges, twinkling with diamonds stitched on the hem. “Who would have ever thought that my journey to restore my freedom would have ended like this!”_

_“Indeed,” said her lover and former pirate, Lady Rose of Ablelake. She drew a pleased, busty breath at the Countess’ side._

_“I as well,” added Harold, the Countess’ other lover and former guard captain to the king._

_“It is as it should be,” said Reginald, curled up with Lymont at the end of the bed._

_The Countess’ fifth lover and dear childhood friend, Penny, nestled in a peasant-like manner up against the Countess’ bosom, Penny being that sort of peasant whose heart, of course, was of gold. “If only it could stay this way forever,” she mused, in a working-class way._

_“I cherish you all with every fiber of my gentle maiden’s heart,” the Countess said, “and surely none of this peace shall ever be disrupted, not ever, not even in the next book, The Contentious Countess: Seduced By A Siren, which will chronicle my further adventures of lust and love and aching womanly passion.”_

_Available in stores now for the low cost of $2.99!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noct was consistently grumpy in this fic for a reason: NO ONE. LET HIM. SLEEP.
> 
> Also I am utterly incapable of writing a sex scene without making it ridiculously sappy. Hm.


End file.
